


Budding Love

by Swanny_Writer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Fluff, Lots of cheese bc i need more loving WonHui in my life, M/M, WonHui are dorky flower nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanny_Writer/pseuds/Swanny_Writer
Summary: Coming from rival flower shops, Wonwoo and Jun are not allowed to interact. Too bad they don't particularly agree with their family rule.(Or the one where WonHui become the modern and flowery equivalent of Romeo and Juliet)





	Budding Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caeruluslapis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caeruluslapis/gifts).



> To SJ for requesting a WonHui flower shop AU. I am so sorry it took me a century to finally write it. I hope it meets your standards and expectations! C:
> 
> To JeanieRom, for your very sweet but effective message that kicked my ass into gear ;D

There is a rule in the Jeon household, and that is: ‘Never interact with anything or anyone from the flower shop across the street.’ Wonwoo grew up with that motto engrained into his brain from the moment he could understand anything besides the need for milk and getting his diaper changed. The reason for the rule is simple, really, if not rather childish in his humble opinion. _Forget Me Not,_ established and owned by the Wen family,is the one and only rival to the Jeon’s _Secret Garden_. 

Now, there’s nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, especially since it usually boosts sales. But this rivalry was far from friendly; it was completely absurd. When both families realized that their eldest sons would be attending the same preschool—which shouldn’t have been a surprise in the first place, since they literally lived three houses away on the same street—both sets of parents forbade their children from even looking in the direction of the other. Easy enough to follow, if it weren’t for the fact that the boys had never even seen each other before the first day of school, thanks to their parents basically strapping blindfolds on them whenever they so much as left the house.

So it went a little like this:

“Wow! That’s a really nice lunchbox!” exclaims an excited boy with sparkling eyes and wide smile.

The other preschooler glances up and reciprocates the gesture. “Thanks! Do you want to sit together?” 

“Okay!”

Needless to say, when roll call was taken, two pairs of eyes grew to the size of saucers. 

“Wait, you’re Jeon Wonwoo?” the first boy asks.

“You’re Wen Junhui?” the other responds with his mouth agape. 

The teacher, having known of their parents’ peculiar requests, was forced to separate the newly formed friends and place them on opposite sides of the classroom. As the years went on, the same pattern repeated, and the boys grew to accept it. When one saw the other at recess, he’d turn away. If they happen to be in the same class, they do not acknowledge the other. In the hallways, they avoid taking the same route. While they may act like enemies, though, Wonwoo and Junhui didn’t harbor any hostility toward each other. They just had to go through the motions imposed by their last names.

Until they got to their senior year.

Wonwoo had been staying after school in the library to cram for his upcoming exams. By the time the teacher on duty told him that it was time to go home, he realized that it had been pouring over the past three hours, explaining the pitter-patter that kept distracting him. He had swung his backpack over his shoulder and retrieved his car keys, when he heard rustling a few tables over. By habit, he and Junhui had grown and developed a sort of sixth sense pertaining to the other’s presence. Wonwoo knew, even without checking, that his library companion was the boy he was forbidden to interact with.

So like he’s done in the past, he ignores him and moves to the door, waving goodbye to Mrs. Lee on his way. Pulling the hood over his head, he rushes down the short flight of steps and races through the rain toward his car. Easy to spot when it was one of the few cars left in the lot. The downpour is so violent, the thirty seconds or so was enough to drench his jacket. He turns on the engine and shrugs the wet garment off, throwing it into the backseat as he straps on his seat belt and heads out. 

As the car stops at the gate to wait for incoming traffic to pass, he glimpses a tall figure running with hunched shoulders on the sidewalk. Wonwoo turns his head to check. Even if he didn’t have that acquired sixth sense, it couldn’t have been anyone else but Junhui. The driver watches the figure hurrying down the street, curled over to protect his backpack from the weather. Something in the pit of Wonwoo’s stomach twists at the sight. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s driving out and follows after the other boy.

The car’s sudden appearance startles Junhui, but when the driver lowers the window and leans out, his facial expression relaxes slightly.

“Wonwoo.”

“Junhui. Get in.”

It’s been over ten years since they’ve spoken to one another. The sound of the other’s name on their tongues tastes foreign, but the melody of their own name spoken by the other is not unpleasant.

“Thanks,” Junhui says, but he seems unsettled as he keeps shifting back and forth once he ducks into the vehicle. “I’m getting your car completely wet,” he says sheepishly, as if it should make Wonwoo reconsider the offer to give him a lift.

“Don’t worry about it,” the latter says, turning on the heat and shifting the fan over to the passenger’s side. “Your health should matter more than the upholstery.”

Junhui lets out a dry laugh. “Enough to break the ’no speaking’ rule?”

Wonwoo cracks a smile. “Isn’t it obvious?” He heads into traffic. “We’ve done it once already, anyway.”

“Who knew flower design was such a cutthroat business?”

Quiet chuckles fill the car. 

The rest of the ride is done in silence. Which is not surprising considering how little they actually knew of each other’s lives. But the silence is comforting, for some reason, instead of awkward or suffocating. Wonwoo drops Junhui off, and the latter flashes him a grateful smile before dashing inside.

Later that night, Wonwoo finds himself replaying the short interaction over again, with Junhui’s smiles lingering in his mind. 

In school for the rest of the year, the boys no longer pretend to not know each other. They’re still not speaking, but timid glances are exchanged, along with hidden grins and a new unspoken rule. On rainy days, it was agreed that Wonwoo would drive Junhui home. 

Their friendship, if one could call it that, was unconventional, yet somehow it worked. Wonwoo had wondered many times if the reason was because it was Junhui and not someone else.

 

____________________________

 

It’s the summer before his first year of college. Like the ones before, Wonwoo has been roped into working at _Secret Garden,_ manning the shop to help his parents. His duties mostly consists of sitting by the register and watering the plants, but lately, he’s had to do inventory and take phone orders, as well. 

He has just gotten off the phone with a husband wanting a bouquet for his wife’s birthday, jotting down the instructions in the notebook, when the little bell above the door jingles to indicate the arrival of a customer. 

Wonwoo glances up, mouth forming the words to the familiar greeting. However, nothing but an “oh” falls out of his slacked jaw.

The customer looks, in a word, ridiculous. 

He’s got on one too many layers for the current balmy weather, with two hoods pulled over his head to cover his hair. Most of his face is hidden behind a pair of bedazzled sunglasses, and his hands are wearing garden gloves. The only physical traits Wonwoo can pick up is that he’s tall with broad shoulders. 

The strange man affords a grand sweep of the interior of the shop as if he’s never seen a flower shop before, then immediately bypasses the rows of bouquets to stand by the shelves of potted plants. Wonwoo half expects him to be a lunatic, and he quietly slides down from the stool, ready to tackle the weirdo at the first sign of anything crazy. But surprisingly, the guy gently cradles a pot of white phalaenopsis orchids, supporting the delicate branch of blooming flowers with his gloved fingers. There’s a soft smile on his face as he admires the plant.

Still apparently in awe of his selection, he comes to the counter and sets the ceramic pot on the surface. Wonwoo tries to ignore his gaudy fashion sense, but it’s proven difficult when a ray of sunlight filters in and hits one of the fake jewels on the sunglasses, almost blinding the young florist.

“Hello,” Wonwoo manages to say casually, subtly shifting to the side to avoid the glaring light. “Is there anything else we can do for you today?”

The customer shakes his head and pulls at the sleeves of his many jackets. “No, thank you,” he answers in a very obvious and fake accent. _Who is this weirdo? “_ I just came for the phalaenopsis.” 

At that, Wonwoo arches a brow. Most people would call it an orchid. Is this guy some kind of hermit botanist or something?

Whatever. As long as he doesn’t damage the rest of the flowers and pays, it’s none of Wonwoo’s business. The florist picks up the pot to tilt it and scan the bar code and— 

“Whoa, hey!”

Wonwoo freezes at the sudden exclamation, hands halting their movements. Is it his imagination, or did the guy’s voice change? Why does it sound like someone familiar?

A nervous laugh escapes. “Sorry,” the weird accent returns. “It’s just really important that it doesn’t get damaged.” He pulls at the sleeves again, at this point turning them into sweater paws.

“Right,” the florist says warily. “I understand.” He finishes the transaction and brings up the total.

The customer pulls out his wallet and counts the bills. “Shoot!”

Wonwoo watches as the other male catches his bottom lip between his teeth and chews. Restlessly, he taps his foot and darts his gaze out the window. There’s a small groan in the back of his throat, but eventually, he takes out his debit card and hands it over the register.

Normally, Wonwoo isn’t the sort of person to be nosy. But he couldn’t help it this time. The guy is a weirdo. So as he brings the card reader over closer, his eyes dart at the name inscribed on the plastic. Which immediately blow up as he reads, _Wen Junhui_.

“Jun—”

A hand shoots out and clasps his mouth shut.

“Shhhhh!” Junhui hushes, all the colors drained from his face. Which now that Wonwoo looks closer, unmistakably belongs to his supposed sworn enemy florist. He doesn’t let go until Wonwoo nods to indicate that he’ll keep quiet.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the latter hisses, now feeling just as nervous as he checks the backroom for the appearance of his dad. He doesn’t even want to _think_ about what would happen if they were caught.

“Shopping for some phalaenopsis, duh!” Junhui retorts, although his anxious foot tapping has yet to stop.

That explanation makes no sense. “Dude, your family owns a flower shop.” 

“Yes, well, I needed this particular one.” When Wonwoo keeps staring at him, he sighs and relents to telling the whole story. “I accidentally sold the last one to a customer, but it was actually reserved for another person, and they’re coming in to pick it up soon. Now please,” he whines, “Just let me pay before my break time runs out.”

Taking pity on him, and also wanting to avoid a murder scene, Wonwoo obliges. 

“You might want to try a different disguise and voice next time,” he advices as he hands Junhui back his card and receipt. “You sound like an idiot, and you look super shady.”

Junhui opens his mouth to retort, but at that moment, Mr. Jeon emerges from the back room pushing a cart stacked with several arrangements. 

“Oh, good morning!” the older man greets with a friendly smile, apparently not put off by Junhui’s crazy getup.

“Mm!” comes the muffled reply.

“Are you all right?”

_This is a disaster waiting to happen_. 

Wonwoo jumps in. “He’s sick and lost his voice.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Mr. Jeon comments distractingly as he places the arrangements on the shelves. “There’s some cough drops in the third drawer. Give him a couple, Wonwoo.”

“Uh… sure.”

The boys exchange a glance, at least Wonwoo thinks Junhui does. It’s kind of hard to tell with those awful sunglasses.

After pocketing the candy-like medicine, Junhui grunts out something resembling a thank you, then quickly flees the shop with his loot. 

Wonwoo throws a cautious look toward his dad. “I’m just gonna water the daisies,” he says, feigning casualness as he slips off the stool.

His father nods and hums, thankfully not finding anything suspicious in his behavior. Grabbing the watering can, he walks across the shop and stands by the front window, following Junhui’s figure as he crosses the street. It’s a miracle he doesn’t end up causing a traffic jam with what he’s wearing. Eventually, Junhui reaches his family shop and slips inside safely. Wonwoo glimpses at his silhouette through the glass panes shrugging off the disguise, before he disappears from view.

When Wonwoo turns away to actually do what he said he would, he catches his reflection in the decorative mirror hanging above the flower baskets. He’s not sure why there’s a small smile tugging the corner of his lips.

 

____________________________

 

“Hello! Welcome to—Oh, hey.”

Junhui, the following day, pops his head through the partially open door. His disguise is a lot less gaudy (thank goodness), with just a cap over his head and a normal pair of sunglasses. He looks around the shop for a second before redirecting his focus on Wonwoo.

“Is your dad here?”

The other shakes his head from the counter. “No, he went out on deliveries. Won’t be back for a while.”

Broad shoulders visibly relax as their owner lets out a grateful sigh. “Cool. I brought you something.” He walks in and deposits a white paper bag on the counter, mindful of the small succulent glass bowl that’s in the midst of getting put together.

Wonwoo wipes his hands on the towel and eyes Junhui as the later fidgets with the sunglasses, then slips them over the collar of his shirt. 

“It’s just, you know, to thank you for yesterday,” he elaborates when the Jeon florist peeks inside to see a blueberry muffin along with a stem of yellow flowers. 

Chuckling, Wonwoo takes the items out. “There was really no need.”

The nervousness disappears shortly to leave room for a mischievous smirk. “I can take it back then,” he suggests, reaching for the baked good.

Wonwoo swiftly pulls it away. “I didn’t say that.”

The two laugh, and Wonwoo proceeds to take a bite. “Thanks. For thanking me.”

“You’re welcome!”

More laughter is shared, and Wonwoo doesn’t fail to notice how easy it is to talk to Junhui. Idly, he wonders if they would have become good friends if their families didn’t have that ridiculous rule.

“So what’s up with the flowers?” he asks, dusting the crumbs from his hands and throwing the paper that used to house the muffin into the trash.

Junhui gives him an amused look. “It’s agrimony. How can you work in a flower shop and not know flower language?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t exactly part of the job requirement.”

“What happens if a customer asks for advice or something?”

“I’ll be honest and say I don’t know.”

Junhui hums, his attention drifting away from his companion to play with the little patch of moss that’s used to cushion the cactus in the glass bowl. Long fingers trace over the fluffy green, moving over to stroke the chubby leaf of an echeveria. 

Maybe it’s from years of actively avoiding him every chance he gets, but Wonwoo can’t stop staring at Junhui now. He’s always had a general idea of what the older looks like, but it never occurred to him just how perfectly proportionate his features are. There’s beauty in symmetry, which Wonwoo always attributed to everyday objects, or more recently, flowers. But looking at Junhui now, he can attest that it pertains to humans, too. 

“You should look into it.”

Wonwoo blinks out of his musings. “Huh?”

Laughing, the raven-haired boy asks, “What, am I so boring you blanked out?”

“No!” the other claims defensively, ignoring the burning sensation at the tip of his ears. “I was just thinking about how to design the succulent bowl.” He waves a hand at the items scattered on the counter between them.

“Ah, okay,” Junhui accepts the answer without skepticism. 

Is he that naive or just a very good actor? For some reason, it irks Wonwoo that he doesn’t know Junhui well enough to have the answer.

“Well,” the object of his sudden interest prompts, “I better get back and leave you to it, then.”

It takes Wonwoo a few seconds to remember what they were talking about. “Oh, yeah,” he nods, picking up the cactus by the pot. “Thanks for the muffin and the agrimony.”

“Sure!” Junhui beams, and Wonwoo’s stomach flip flops. “See you.”

“Bye.”

It’s not until he spies Junhui returning to his own family shop that Wonwoo picks up the stem of agrimony again. He twists it between his thumb and forefinger, breathing in the faint aroma, as he thinks about flower language. Was Junhui just making conversation, or did he give him this flower with a purpose? 

Some might see Wonwoo’s choice as cowardly, but there’s no one around to judge him, so he does it anyway. He pulls out a small vase meant for singles from under the counter, fills it up with water, and sets the little stem in. Then he sets it to the side where he can see it as he goes on to work on today’s tasks. He tells himself it’s not a big deal as he glues the moss to the bottom of the glass bowl. Sometimes people just give flowers for aesthetic purposes, he reasons when he carefully settles the echeveria that Junhui played with into its niche.

By the time he threads the ribbon through the hole at the top of the ornament, he’s convinced himself that the meaning of the agrimony is inconsequential.

His resolve lasts exactly fifteen minutes.

_Agrimony: to show your gratitude or thankfulness_

Okay, that makes sense, he thinks as he scans through the list of flowers and their meanings on his phone. Junhui did say he came over because he wanted to say thanks for covering for him. Oddly enough, Wonwoo sort of hoped for something more, not that he’ll acknowledge it.

 

____________________________

 

Wonwoo stands in the air controlled room at the back of the shop, staring at the empty buckets where at least two dozens red carnations should be. He flips the pages on the clipboard one more time, scanning the text for what felt like the tenth time since this morning. Sure enough, in the span of three hours, the writing has not changed to save his ass. Somehow, somewhere in the past few weeks, he messed up the inventory. With the count off by two dozens, the next delivery won’t be until three days from now.

Normally, a mistake done in inventory is neither rare nor a big deal. Except that now there is literally no red carnations, and at least five bouquets due today and tomorrow require them. 

_I am so fucked_.

With his stomach twisting into itself, he presses a hand over his face and groans. Where the hell is he supposed to find two dozens high-grade quality red carnations without paying an insane amount of money for overnight shipping?

_Oh, geez._

 

Back to the front of the store, he picks up the phone and walks to the window where he can see _Forget Me Not’s_ banner with their phone number. Junhui should be working today (the knowledge has come from casual observations over the past week, not because he’s been pretending to water the plants just so he could catch the other florist riding his bike into town and admiring how good he looks when the wind blows through his hair). With any luck, he’ll answer the phone instead of either one of his parents. Wonwoo could always hang up if the adults pick up the phone.

Trembling fingers hit the buttons slowly one at a time; butterflies swirl in his belly when he presses the phone to his ear. He tells himself he’s just scared of getting caught fraternizing with the ‘enemy', not because he might hear Junhui’s voice on the other end.

After a couple rings, someone picks up. “Hello, thank you for calling _Forget Me Not._ This is Junhui, how may I assist you today?”

_Dear lord, how can a person's voice sound this good?_

“Hey,” Wonwoo clears his throat. “It’s me.”

“Me who?”

He freezes, blinking rapidly as if it would help his thought process work faster. “Uh…”

A short giggle fills his ear, and he melts a little. “I’m just kidding. What’s up?”

Wonwoo’s rigid body all but collapses onto the floor. By some miracle, he still manages to sound normal. He has his naturally deep voice to thank for that. “Do you happen to have about two dozens or so red carnations?”

“Wow, you must really be in love.”

“Huh?”

Junhui laughs again, all light and airy. “Didn’t I advise you to look up flower meanings? Red carnations mean deep romantic love. Like, super passionate.”

“Oh.” _Why is his face burning up?_ “Well, they’re not for me or from me. I messed up with the inventory, and now we’re short. We have bouquets to prepare with carnations, and the next delivery won’t be here until Friday.”

“Alright, hold on.” There’s some shuffling noises, and Wonwoo guesses Junhui is moving to the backroom to check their stocks. He returns shortly after. “You’re in luck. We just had a shipment two days ago.”

Wonwoo thanks every single deity he can name and lastly thanks Junhui. “You really saved me, man.”

Junhui laughs, and Wonwoo’s mouth quirks up. “Always a pleasure. Okay, give me your number. I’ll text you when you can come by to pick them up.”

After listing off the digits, he thanks Junhui again, then the two hang up. Wonwoo doesn’t think about how his heart hammers in his chest from a mere phone conversation.

 

 **Unknown:**  2 dozens ⚘ ready for pick up!

 

**Wonwoo:**  thanks!

**Wonwoo:** that’s a rose btw

 

**Unknown:** eh close enough

**Unknown:** same meaning anyway ;D

 

 

Last week, Wonwoo made fun of Junhui for putting on that ridiculous costume to come over and buy the orchid. But now that he has to go across the street to get the carnations, he finds himself eating his words. 

The moment he pushes the door open, Junhui looks over from his station and bursts into a fit of laughter. Wonwoo grumbles under his breath, adjusting the sunglasses and visor over his head as he makes his way to the counter. Seeing him up close causes the _Forget Me Not_ florist to laugh even louder.

“Stop laughing at me!”

“I’m… I’m really sorry…” he gasps between laughs, holding his stomach with one hand, the other supporting his weight on the counter. “You just… Oh, man.” Wiping at the tears, he clears his throat and steps down from the stool. “Whew. And you called me an idiot for my disguise.”

“Well, you were.”

Junhui arches a brow and pointedly looks him over. “Then what does that make you?”

“These were the only clothes in the shop, okay?” he cries, even though all he wants to do is crawl into a hole and die. To think that he caused himself this humiliation. All because he miscalculated those damn carnations. 

Earlier, he found a pair of pants that his mother wears over her jeans to keep them clean while she works. Not only were they too short on him, they were made from a bright colored floral print. To draw attention away from the length of the pant legs, he shoved his feet into a pair of purple galoshes, which is absurd when it hasn’t rained in a month. Then to hide his face, he grabbed his father’s straw hat and sunglasses. 

“You didn’t really need a disguise, though,” Junhui says as they walk toward the back. “I waited until my dad was out to text you.”

“Oh.” Well, now he feels even more dumb. Reaching up, he pulls the brim of the hat lower to hide his flushed cheeks. 

Fortunately, Junhui refrains from mocking him, instead leading him to the cold room for the flowers.

“There you go!”

“Thank you so much,” he breathes in relief, holding the bouquets in one arm, while the other fishes out his wallet. 

At the register, Junhui rings him up quickly, then walks to the door to hold it open for him. “Good luck!”

“See ya!”

Back to _Secret Garden,_ Wonwoo dumps the carnations into the appropriate buckets and disposes of the paper and seals with the other shop’s name into the dumpster. Then as quick as lightning, he changes out of the ridiculous outfit before his father returns from his errands. He barely makes it out to the front of the store before the older Mr. Jeon pushes the door open, carrying several bags.

_Disaster averted_.

 

As the day progresses, Wonwoo finds his gaze roaming over the now dried up stem of agrimony. All the flowers have withered, and it actually looks really sad, but he can’t bring himself to throw it away. He’s gotten curious looks from his father the very afternoon after Junhui’s second visit, and his mom asked about it the following day when she came in to work.

“What’s this?” she turned a knowing smile his way, finger gently spinning the vase. 

Wonwoo shrugged. “Just a flower.”

“We don’t carry these at the shop, though,” she pressed on. “Was it a gift?”

“Er…” He should just tell her the truth—well, as much of it as he can without risking losing his head, or getting Junhui in trouble. “Sort of. I helped out a customer, and they gave it to me as a thanks.”

“Aww, how sweet!” she cooed, ruffling his hair. “Maybe that means they’ll come back to see you.”

Turning around to busy himself with the order logs, he rolled his eyes. “It’s just a flower, Mom.”

“It’s never just a flower,” she corrected him gently. “Every petal, every leaf matters. That’s why we’re in business, after all!” Her laughter followed her as she went to the back room to start on the arrangements.

Now as Wonwoo sorts through the flowers on display and plucks out the old and wilted ones, he thinks maybe she was right. They own a flower shop. Might as well use it.

 

____________________________

 

 

**Wonwoo:**  hey! when’s your lunch break?

**Flower Boy:**  @ 11:30, why?

 

 **Wonwoo:**  wanna grab something together?

 

**Flower Boy:**  isn’t that kinda suicidal?

 

**Wonwoo:**  what they don’t know won’t kill us

**Wonwoo:** if you’re up for it, i’ll meet you behind Pledis Cafe

 

**Flower Boy:** how very Romeo and Juliet

 

**Wonwoo:** except we won’t die. Hopefully

 

**Flower Boy:**  lol

**Flower Boy:** that’s a reassuring answer

**Flower Boy:** should we be in disguise again? LOL

 

**Wonwoo:** -_____-

**Wonwoo:** that might make us more noticeable actually

 

**Flower Boy:** mmm

**Flower Boy:** good point

 

**Wonwoo:** so are you up for some sneaking around?

 

**Flower Boy:** how scandalous! lol

 

**Wonwoo:** there’ll be food though

 

**Flower Boy:** haha ok. sure. see you there, Romeo

 

____________________________

 

Junhui shows up to their meeting point a couple minutes after he does, and the two share a short round of chuckles upon seeing each other. They both decided this morning to wear a navy tee with blue jeans, disguising themselves with a black cap and sunglasses.

“Great minds think alike, I guess,” Wonwoo kids, successfully making Junhui scrunch up his nose and giggle.

“Like two peas in a pod.”

The latter pulls the door of the coffee and motions for Wonwoo to go in first. They make small talk as they stand in line, discussing the different sandwiches and selections the coffee house offered. Wonwoo is so busy craning his neck over the heads of the people in front in order to read the tiny writing on the chalkboard, he doesn’t notice until he feels a weight settling on the side of his shoulder. 

A thrill that’s a mixture of excitement and anxiety rushes down his spine as he spies Junhui’s face mere inches from his own. The other florist is casually leaning on his own arm, which is propped on the slope of Wonwoo’s shoulder. Thank goodness he’s not looking at the blushing brown-haired boy; he’s too preoccupied chewing on his lip and deciding on what to order. 

Wonwoo tries to take in steady breaths and not move lest he accidentally dislodges the arm. His mind spins through the memories of high school, and while he didn’t have many of Junhui, he does recall how the older seemed to be very comfortable with skinship toward his friends. So really, this little show of affection shouldn’t be a big deal. But it’s hard to tell that to his heart, which refuses to return to a normal rhythm. 

By some miracle, they manage to order their food and drinks with Wonwoo’s dignity intact. 

“Are you returning to the shop?” Junhui asks as they head for the exit.

Wonwoo shrugs, sipping on the iced coffee. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

The other swiftly glances away, pretending to squint at the glaring sunlight as he stammers, “Well, I mean, we could… I don’t know, we’ve made it this far without our parents finding out. We could actually eat together. I mean, if you want,” he adds quickly after. 

Holding back a grin, Wonwoo notes the faint rosy tints on the nervous florist. It feels reassuring knowing he’s not the only one feeling this way. “Yeah, sure. Where to?”

When Junhui turns back to him, his smile is as dazzling as the sun. 

About a half hour later, the two of them are sitting against a large tree, cushioned by the green grass of the park. Tummies full, they share a quiet moment, enjoying the fresh breeze and the faint scents of flowers. They figure they’re secluded enough from the rest of the park goers that they can forego the sunglasses.

“You know what this weather calls for?” Wonwoo wonders aloud, glancing to his side to meet Junhui’s gaze.

“What?” 

“A nap.”

Junhui chuckles. “There’s only ten minutes before we have to go back, though,” he reminds him gently.

Wonwoo makes a displeased face, prompting his companion to giggle. “It’ll take three minutes to get back, so I could sleep for seven.”

“You sound like Jeonghan.”

“Oh yeah,” Wonwoo laughs, remembering how the older had run for class president and advocated for the return of nap times during the school day. “Too bad those naps never caught on.”

Junhui agrees with a hum. After a short pause, he scoots a little closer and pats his thigh. “Lay down.”

Raising a brow, his gaze flickers between Junhui’s open expression and his hand. _Is he serious?_

“I’ll wake you up,” the older says when Wonwoo doesn’t move. “Or you know, we can just sit here.” As if embarrassed by his own suggestion, he turns his face to the other side to observe the ducks swimming lazily in the lake across from them. 

There’s a thousand butterflies swirling in Wonwoo’s stomach, and they’re making it very difficult for him to inhale air into his lungs for whatever reason. He also suddenly feels very warm despite the cool breeze blowing through his hair. Despite all of that discomfort—or _should_ be considered discomfort—Wonwoo finds himself complying. With trepidation, he leans over and scoots back until his head rests over firm thighs. The moment his head makes contact, he screws his eyes shut, his shoulders hunching tensely.

He waits a few seconds. Just when the nerves threaten to consume him, and he starts debating whether he can bound upward and run away, he feels gentle fingertips carding through his hair. All the tension evaporates instantly. He cracks his eyelids to look up at Junhui’s handsome face. His heart lurches, almost falling out of his chest cavity.

“Is this okay?” Junhui’s voice is so soft, Wonwoo almost misses it. Large doe eyes gaze at him tenderly, and the florist can only nod dumbly. He’s rewarded with a shy grin. 

When Wonwoo continues to stare at his companion, the latter chuckles and scrapes his nails against his scalp. “Didn’t you want to nap?” 

_It’d be a waste to sleep now_. 

“Guess it passed,” he answers instead. “But this is nice, too.”

Junhui chuckles, continuing to stroke his hair with a content smile. “Yeah, it is.” 

 

Eventually, they pack up and return to the real world, with both feeling a little disappointed at the seemingly short lunch break. But before they parted ways, Wonwoo tugged Junhui to the alley behind _Secret Garden_ and asked the rival florist to wait for him. The latter had looked at him with a raised brow, but stayed put. Wonwoo quickly ran inside to grab the stem of daffodil hidden in the corner of the cold room. 

“Here!” he proclaims when he returns, taking Junhui’s hand and placing the flower in it. “See you later!” Then before the very confused, but amused, boy could say anything in response, Wonwoo runs away and closes the door.

 

_Daffodil: given to celebrate new beginnings._

 

____________________________

 

The flower exchange soon becomes a game for the (not-so) rivals. The day after their first lunch date, Wonwoo comes to unlock the front door and finds a yellow coreopsis taped to the glass. A quick google search later identifies it to represent cheerfulness. Wonwoo chooses to interpret it to mean Junhui had fun, too. That afternoon, taking advantage of his duty as trash dumper, he takes with him a purple anemone, and swings by _Forget Me Not_. He meets the other florist behind the shop and hands him the flower before fleeing back across the street. 

 

**Flower Boy:** you gave me an anemone...

**Flower Boy:** are you trying to tell me something? 

 

**Wonwoo:**  oh god…

**Wonwoo:** don’t tell me i looked up the wrong meaning

 

**Flower Boy:** do you feel forsaken, Juliet?

**Flower Boy:** should i serenade you under the moonlight?

 

 **Wonwoo:**    (¬_¬)

**Wonwoo:** i thought I was Romeo… 

 

**Flower Boy:** are you saying you want to climb my window?

 

**Wonwoo:** your room’s on the second floor

 

**Flower Boy:** the real Romeo didn’t let that stop him

**Flower Boy:** he snuck into the enemy’s house and climbed  a balcony for his Juliet!

 

**Wonwoo:** there is no REAL Romeo  -__-

**Wonwoo:** why are we even talking about this?

 

**Flower Boy:** you implied that you were feeling forsaken 

 

**Wonwoo:** i just looked it up again. anemone can also mean anticipation

**Wonwoo:** which is what i was trying to say

 

 **Flower Boy:**   \\(^_^)/

**Flower boy:** well that’s definitely better

 

**Wonwoo:** meet you @11:45 tomorrow :D

 

While most of the time the flowers and their meanings are easy enough to understand, and fit with their growing friendship, at times, Junhui would send him a few that made Wonwoo scratch his head in confusion, forcing himself not to overthink. 

 

**Wonwoo:** are you aware that you handed me a peony?

 

 

**Flower Boy:**  of course! i’m a professional after all

**Flower Boy:** do you not like peonies?

**Flower Boy:**  OH GOD ARE YOU ALLERGIC?!

 

**Wonwoo:**  no, i like them fine. and no, i’m not allergic

**Wonwoo:**  aren’t they given out during weddings and stuff? 

 

**Flower Boy:**  very good! for a happy marriage!

 

 

**Wonwoo:** ಠ_ಠ 

**Wonwoo:** am I getting married without my knowledge??? 

 

**Flower Boy:**   LOL

**Flower Boy:**  (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

 

**Wonwoo:**  no, seriously. why?

 

**Flower Boy:**  idk. it looked pretty

 

**Wonwoo:** what happened to every flower means something?

 

**Flower Boy:** it was pretty and i thought of you

 

**Wonwoo:** 0_o 

**Wonwoo:** do you want to marry me???

 

**Flower Boy:** I thought you’d never ask!

**Flower Boy:**   (｡◕‿‿◕｡)

**Flower Boy:** lol. you had peonies on your shirt yesterday

 

**Wonwoo:** ohhhhh

**Wonwoo:** you had a car on yours. guess i’ll buy you one just like it

 

**Flower Boy:** Ooooh!

**Flower Boy:** what a perfect wedding gift ;D

 

 **Wonwoo:** only the best for you, Juliet

 **Wonwoo:**   (¬‿¬) 

 

____________________________

 

By the end of the month, there’s a bouquet of eclectic flowers sitting on the corner of Wonwoo’s station, a twin to the one decorating Junhui’s station. The latter has not failed to send him pictures of it whenever a new addition was made. More than half of them have turned into dried flowers by now, but there’s a certain charm to the chaotic sight that makes his heart skip a beat whenever he throws a glance at it. He just wishes he could ask Junhui what the older thought about their relationship, or this point, a lack thereof.

They’ve been going out to lunch every day, talking about a variety of things. It doesn’t seem like the supply of topics would ever run out, and Junhui had commented that it’s because they’re catching up on over a decade of missed conversations. Wonwoo had agreed with a grin. Their lunch dates are the only times they could spend together in person, which leaves a lot to be desired. That and the short meetings when flowers are exchanged. They text most of the time, and while it’s fun, it’s not the same.

As risky and potentially dangerous as it is, Wonwoo can’t help wishing there was more between them than light banter and flirtatious dialogue. Flirting is confusing all on its own; flirting with Junhui and having him reciprocate is ten times worse because feelings are actually applied. At least on Wonwoo’s end; he has yet to know what Junhui thinks. Not to mention the whole flower exchange ordeal. Does it mean something?

He wonders if it’s all in his head, and whether it’s just an innocent little game that Junhui likes playing without deeper significance. 

Is there any flower that means:  _So, what are we? Do you like me more than a friend, because I’m not convinced my feelings are purely platonic at this point._

 

His questions prove to be viable the following week when Soonyoung drops by for a visit after returning from vacation with his family. The guy all but bounces off the walls the moment he enters the flower shop.

“What’s up brotah! I am back!” 

Wonwoo winces and rubs his ear to try to dispel the ringing brought on by the volume. “Hey. Indoor voices, remember? You’re lucky we don’t have any customers right now.”

Soonyoung laughs and drags a stool over to perch on. “Sorry.” Showing that he is incapable of sitting still for more than ten seconds, he starts swinging his legs and succeeds in giving his shin a bruise in the process. “Gah!”

Wonwoo sighs. “I think that’s a new record.” He busies himself separating the bunches of mums into dozens, wrapping them in plastic before Soonyoung can cause further destruction.

Once he stops hissing, the ball of energy finds interest in the small vase by Wonwoo’s elbow. “What’s that?” He points.

“Flowers.”

An eye roll. “No, really? I thought it was a stack of potatoes. Why do you keep a bunch of dead flowers on your desk?” Making a face, he brings the vase closer for inspection. 

Wonwoo keeps an eye on his movements, ready to swat his hand away at the first sign of potential destruction. “They were gifts,” he whispers, half-hoping Soonyoung doesn’t hear.

But of course he does. 

“Gifts from whom?” he wants to know, smile turning sly as he inches closer. “A boyfriend, perhaps?”

“N-no.” _Why did he stutter?_ “It’s kinda complicated.” 

Soonyoung quirks a brow. “What’s up with that reply?” 

“Well…” he hesitates, rubbing his neck as he debates whether he should tell his friend. Soonyoung continues to stare at him expectantly. In the end, he sighs and relents, hoping talking it out with someone could help give him insight.

“Wow… So you and Junhui, huh?” Soonyoung scratches his hair, turning around to glance out the window toward _Forget Me Not_. “Talk about complicated. And super cliché!” He snorts. Wonwoo frowns. After a few seconds, the ball of energy pulls out his phone and taps several buttons.

“What are you doing?”

“Gonna play Cupid,” he answers breezily. “In all of the history of romance, _someone_ must have looked at a flower and thought, ‘hey, I should use this to ask out the hottie next door since I can’t bring myself to do it myself.’” 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. But he’s not exactly opposed to the idea. If things go south, he could always play it off as a joke like all the other times.

“All right, Romeo. Take out a pen and paper. Time to take notes.”

Even as he does as he’s asked, he mutters, “Don’t call me that.”

“Why?” Soonyoung looks up from the screen. But then his eyes narrow, and his face contorts into a grimace. “Wait, is that some kind of couple pet names? Gross.”

“Shut up.”

“Whatever. Here: gardenia for secret love, jonquil for desire of affection to be returned,”—at that he snickers and earns a punch to the arm. “Ow!” Soonyoung rubs at the sore spot, but continues to list off the flowers. “Moss rosebud for confession of love, obviously, can’t have a love confession without a rose, right?” he laughs at Wonwoo’s eye roll. “Oh, apparently red tulips mean the same thing. What do you know? Hmm…” 

In the end, Wonwoo only picks a handful of the flowers that he names out. If the florist actually goes through with it, the bouquet would end up the size of his arms circumference. Soonyoung stays with him, adding unnecessary comments as Wonwoo plucks flowers from the store stocks. The florist figures a flower each won’t be the end of the world. Besides, it’ll be for a good cause, right?

“Nice,” Soonyoung praises genuinely as he admires the small bouquet Wonwoo holds out. 

“Put your finger there.” The florist tightens the ribbon with the hyperactive boy’s help, then curls the ends of the bow to make it pretty. 

“Now you just gotta give it to him!”

Wonwoo lets out a sigh. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“Because it is!” Soonyoung laughs, patting his shoulder with encouragement. “Shoot him a text to meet you, hand him the bouquet like you’ve done a gazillion times over the past month, then run back here before anyone sees you. Done!”

“I feel sick,” Wonwoo mutters, clutching his queasy stomach. “What if he sends me a yellow carnation tomorrow?”

A confused look crosses Soonyoung’s face to erase the pleasant smile. “What’s a yellow carnation?”

Right away, the florist points to the bucket on his right. “It means rejection,” he laments.

Now it’s Soonyoung’s turn to roll his eyes. “Seriously, there’s a higher chance that a meteor will crash through the earth than him saying no. Trust me, buddy, no one spends his time sending flowers to someone he doesn’t like. Or risk his family’s wrath for that matter. For a month, no less. Also! He spends his lunch hour with _you._ And you’re boring as fuck.” Not flinching from the glare, he goes on, “If that’s not love, I don’t know what is, Lover-boy.” 

“Then how come I’m the only doing this?” Lover-boy gestures toward the bouquet with a frown.

A shrug. “Well, Junhui’s never been the most forward. Besides, you should know how oblivious he can be.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Now stop moping and get going!” the so-called Cupid urges, all but shoving Wonwoo out of his seat. “I’ll keep an eye out on the store. If anyone comes, I’ll occupy them.”

Wonwoo is halfway to the door when he stops and turns over his shoulder. “Please try not to break anything. And no dancing!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now go!” 

The meeting goes as well as Wonwoo expects. No, actually, it’s even more terrifying and nerve-wracking. As he waits for Junhui in the alley behind _Forget Me Not_ , he alternates the bouquet from hand to hand in order to wipe the sweat onto his jeans. His heart hammers violently; so much, he can actually see the material of the t-shirt jumping. The blood is rushing through his ears at an unhealthy speed, and he almost misses the slight creak of the hinges due to the rush. Almost. His neck snaps up the moment Junhui steps out, and Wonwoo can just feel the stupid grin spreading across his face. In a split second of brilliance, he remembers to hide the bouquet behind his back.

“Hey!” Junhui grins, half-running toward him. “I don’t have much time. A bride and her wedding planner just came in.”

Wonwoo scowls in sympathy. “Yeah, I’ll be quick,” he says, grateful his voice is not as breathless as he feels. “Um… Here.” 

Presenting the bouquet, he watches with bated breath as Junhui’s sparkling eyes widen. His full lips part as he reaches slowly for the stems, warm fingers brushing against Wonwoo’s trembling ones. The Juliet to Wonwoo’s Romeo blinks rapidly, but the shock quickly morphs into delight as a shy smile tugs the corners of his mouth.

“Wonwoo,” he breathes, looking up sheepishly from the flowers.

The Jeon florist sucks in a breath.

“They’re beautiful,” Junhui sighs, unable to stop grinning. “Thank you.”

The boys dart their gazes around, too embarrassed to make eye contact, yet unable to look away for long. There are matching rosiness on their cheeks and wide grins on their lips. 

“Junhui!”

The ill-starred couple jump from the sudden voice calling from inside the shop. Fear grips them as they look in direction of the door, then immediately back to their companion. 

“I need to go,” Junhui announces, agitation causing his voice to wobble.

“Right, so do I.” Wonwoo isn’t doing much better.

“Thank you so much,” the Wen florist says quietly, taking a step back toward the establishment, yet not quite able to tear his gaze away.

The other cracks a smile, ignoring his internal alarm screaming at him to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Wait!”

Before Wonwoo manages to move more than an inch away, his hand is clasped. A thrill shoots through his body from their connected touch. He turns around just in time to realize that Junhui is leaning toward him. It’s over before he even computes what happened, but there’s no denying the tingling feeling in his limbs and the soft sensation on his cheek. _Junhui kissed him_. 

The brunet barely makes eye contact as he flees, ears and cheeks glowing. 

Wonwoo floats back to _Secret Garden_ on a cloud, mind replaying back the whole interaction on a loop. 

Only to be rudely woken up by Soonyoung’s shrill voice and near tackle the moment he pushes the door open. Clearly, his friend has no tact for when it comes to giving a guy’s soul time to return to his body. He’s immediately bombarded with questions and excitement, which he tries to catch as much as he can answer without going deaf.

“I _told_ you Junhui likes you,” Soonyoung says smugly, jumping up and down a couple times, eyes squinted into slits. “Oh man! I can’t wait to tell—Mhmph!” 

Wonwoo presses his hand harder on the other’s face, squishing it. “You can’t tell anyone, you idiot!” he hisses. “Did you already forget that our parents don’t even allow us to _look_ at each other?”

Soonyoung says something behind the hand that Wonwoo figures is some sort of agreement, so he lets go. “Whew! Another second and you’d have a dead body on your hand.”

Rolling his eyes, the florist side steps his friend to reach his work station.

"Hey, if you guys ever need an excuse to 'meet up'" he winks suggestively, "Just holler at me. I throw the best parties on this side of town."

Ignoring his flushed cheeks, Wonwoo resorts to sarcasm. "Thank you so much, but I'd rather not get arrested by the police or have my parents pick me up from jail."

"Pfft," the other scoffs. "Maybe I'll just invite Junnie, then. God knows why he likes you."

Ignoring the last comment, Wonwoo attempts to distract himself from the time ticking by oh-so slowly by chatting with Soonyoung about his family vacation and working on menial tasks. Several times throughout the day, he fights off the urge to pull his phone out to check for nonexistent texts. But he can’t stop himself from using the 'water the flowers' excuse to go to the window and try to see if he can spot Junhui. If the florist is busy, it could explain why he hasn’t said anything about the bouquet yet. As opposed to him actually hating Wonwoo and trying to avoid him.

That afternoon, when Wonwoo gets ready to sweep the floor and close the shop, his phone finally _dings!_ to signal an upcoming texts. He’s never reached for something with that much speed in his life.

 

 **Flower Boy:** sorry for the late reply. you know how brides get…  ◔̯◔

 

**Wonwoo:** don’t worry about it. hope she wasn’t a bridezilla 

 

**Flower Boy:** lol. nah, just really picky. she just left, actually

 

**Wonwoo:** wow. you doing ok?

 

 **Flower Boy:** C: thanks! and thx for the  ❁❀✼ again

 

 **Wonwoo:**   (｡◕‿‿◕｡) 

 

**Flower Boy:** I have something to tell you too

**Flower Boy:** Meet me at the park @ 11:30. Lunch’s on me (^~^)

 

**Wonwoo:** ok!

 

 

The part where Junhui says he has something to tell him makes Wonwoo queasy. It’s a little too close to “we need to talk” for comfort, and that phrase never invited anything pleasant. But then Junhui included smiley faces, so it can’t be too bad, right? Wonwoo sure hopes so, because he is not ready to get his heart crushed by the son of his family’s rivals.

He does take consolation in the fact that if Junhui does end up friendzoning him, he’ll get an excuse to kill Kwon Soonyoung.

 

____________________________

 

Wonwoo arrives at the park to see Junhui creating a rut in the grass as he paces back and forth, hand tugging as his lip, brows furrowed as if contemplating something very important. The sight of the older florist causes Wonwoo’s insides to turn into liquid, half excited half nervous. There’s a small cooler at the base of the tree the two usually sit against, along with a gift bag. Wonwoo tells himself not to get his hopes up.

“Hey,” he says, feigning casualness, as he approaches.

Junhui almost trips over his own two feet. “Oh, h-hey!” he laughs timidly. “I hope you’re hungry!”

Laughing a little easier now, Wonwoo nods and sits next to Junhui, watching in awe as the other opens the lunch box and brings out several food containers. Wonwoo’s eyes turn round at the sight, and his stomach starts to grumble.

“That looks delicious!” he says in awe.

There’s a quiet giggle as he’s given a pair of chopsticks. “Well, I hope it’ll taste as good as it looks.” Then meeting Wonwoo’s gaze, he admits sheepishly. “I’ve never cooked for anyone other than my family, so give me your honest opinion, okay?”

“You cooked all of this?” 

Junhui chuckles at Wonwoo’s stunned expression, turning away to hide his burning cheeks. He nods, barely perceptible, but Wonwoo catches it and cracks a smile. Warmth—pleasant and delightful—spreads through his chest. He takes secret satisfaction that he’s the first person outside of Junhui’s family to taste his food.

At the end of the meal, Wonwoo takes a couple swigs of water. “That was really good,” he says.

“Yeah?” Pride takes the form of a broad grin spreading across the young cook’s face. “I’m glad you liked it!”

“I did,” the florist nods. “Thank you so much.”

Junhui smiles.

After the two clean up and put the containers back into the cooler, Wonwoo checks the time. There’s a little over ten minutes left, and the latter scratches his head. Is he supposed to bring up whatever Junhui wanted to talk to him? Or should he just ignore it? He’s not sure he could handle the anticipation, though. Where’s an anemone when he needs one?

“Hey, Wonwoo.” 

The Jeon florist is pulled out of his reverie by the soft voice. He looks over to see Junhui holding the gift bag over his lap, eyes downcast as he worries his bottom lip. Since he can’t be caught, Wonwoo takes time to let his gaze linger over the sharp lines of the boy’s features, admiring the thick lashes and rose cheeks, sprinkled with a handful of freckles. 

“Yeah?” he responds, voice low to match Junhui’s. 

He sees the other swallow thickly, then suck in a breath as if to steady his nerves. Wonwoo thinks he should do the same. “Um, your bouquet…” Junhui begins slowly, hesitantly. Wonwoo’s stomach twists up. “You arranged it with the knowledge of every flower's meaning, right?”

Wonwoo nods slowly.

That seems to loosen Junhui up, because he lets out a soft laugh and his shoulders relax. “Okay, good. Because it would be really bad if I misunderstood. Um… Here.” With shaky hands, he offers Wonwoo the gift bag.

The latter shifts his focus from the present to the boy shyly looking at his lap. Cracking a smile despite the butterflies, he accepts the bag and peeks inside.

“Oh!”

Carefully, he reaches inside and takes out the floral basket. The arrangement is small and simple, but beautiful. At the base, forget-me-nots sway delicately in the breeze, their leaves and petals fragile yet sturdy. Mixed with the blue flowers are white ones, even more delicate: myrtle. Then to add height to the arrangement, a single pink tulip is added as the center point. 

Wonwoo doesn’t need to look up any of these flowers to know what they all mean. After all, he and Soonyoung did research intently on the subject matter. 

“It’s beautiful,” Wonwoo whispers, fingertip brushing the small petals. “Thank you.”

Junhui grins, a perfect mirror to Wonwoo’s expression. 

Excited and full of jitters, their hand slowly make their way toward each other’s, skin grazing, then eventually, fingers knot together. Wonwoo squeezes once, just to make sure it’s real; Junhui reciprocates, a silent answer that it is.

“So I guess that means we’re really like Romeo and Juliet now, huh?” Junhui whispers, scooting closer.

Wonwoo chuckles. He feels so happy and light, his cheeks start to get sore from the smile. Tugging Junhui over, he lets him put his head on his shoulder. He brings their joined hands up to rest on his knee. “Should we elope together, then?”

That causes an airy and joyous laugh to bubble out of the boy at his side. “Where’s my spider flower, then?”

Wonwoo smiles into Junhui’s soft hair. “Pretty sure we just got a shipment last week.” 

The other giggles in response, nestling in closer on the sturdy shoulder.

 

 

When Wonwoo returns to _Secret Garden_ , he’s surprised he manages to cross the threshold without banging his forehead on the doorframe considering how light he feels. He figures he’d be floating inside. His hands grip the little basket and sets it on the corner of his station, staring at it with a fond expression, knowing Junhui has his bouquet at his station in _Forget Me Not_.

Too focused on the flowers and Junhui’s smile, he doesn’t notice his parents walking back and forth inside the shop carrying arrangements and restocking the buckets.

“So how’s Junhui doing?” his father asks suddenly, violently yaking him out of the daze. An icy chill shoots down his spine, and he breaks out in a cold sweat as his eyes widen and turn to the older Jeon. The man isn’t looking in his direction; he’s on top of the ladder, checking on the hanging flower baskets.

“W-what… Um, who are you talking about?” he stammers, wiping his clammy hands on the front of his jeans. 

His heart is beating too hard. He’s going to go into cardiac arrest. Which might be a better way to go. Because at this rate, his parents are going to kill him. He should have written his will when he had the chance. Soonyoung would have loved his laptop, and Junhui could get all his books.

“Honey, you can’t just ask him that,” his mother says with a short laugh, ruffling his hair with motherly love. He eyes his parents with wariness. “You’re scaring him.”

Dad barks out a laugh, reaching for the watering can.

Smiling patiently, his mother gestures toward the arrangement on his desk. “Junhui’s the mysterious customer who keeps stopping by the shop, isn’t he?” Wonwoo’s wide-eyed expression is enough of an answer. 

“Did you really think we wouldn’t notice?” his father adds from the ceiling.

Wonwoo is still gaping at his parents, not quite understanding why he’s not dead yet. Also, why are they _laughing_? Are these not the same people who didn’t even want him and Junhui to make eye contact?

At that moment, he receives a text.

 

**Flower Boy:** my parents found out… 

**Flower Boy:** they want you over for dinner some time

 

**Wonwoo:** mine did too

**Wonwoo:** idk what’s happening... 

 

 

At the end of a very awkward and frustrating conversation, Wonwoo learns that the Jeon and Wen parents had known about their sons sneaking around behind their backs for almost as long as the boys started to see each other. They didn’t mention it because they wanted to see if it would amount to anything significant, which the moms had a feeling it would, after they noticed flowers on their son’s desks. It had taken a little more convincing for their fathers to agree to a truce, all for the sake of their sons. Obviously, moms favored their children’s happiness over some business rivalry. 

Even though Wonwoo is grateful for the fortunate turnout, he can’t help feeling irritated. At least he was right about one thing: their parents are ridiculous.

 

____________________________

 

“I can’t believe we snuck around for nothing,” Wonwoo gripes one day shortly after the fiasco. The two young florists are taking a stroll through the park, linked hands swinging back and forth thanks to Junhui’s excited movements.

“But it was kinda exhilarating, right?” his companion asks with a laugh, bumping their shoulders together. 

“I suppose,” Wonwoo allows with a gentle smile. “If I had known they’d take the news that lightly, I would’ve tried something much sooner. It feels like we wasted so much time. All of our childhood, basically.”

Junhui hums, but there’s a peaceful expression on his face. “That’s true. I do find myself wondering how things would have turned out if we weren’t separated that first day of school. But,” at this point, he glimpses over and tilts his head, smiling. “Looking at it from the bright side, we didn’t have to see each other going through the awkward phases of adolescence.”

Wonwoo laughs, joining Junhui as he feels very grateful indeed. 

“Plus,” Junhui adds after their laughter subsides. “We’ve got plenty of time now to make up for lost time, right?”

Grin widening, Wonwoo nods, gripping Junhui’s hand a little tighter. “Right.” 

They continue to walk contently, the conversation flowing easily between them. The sun is shinning and warm on their skin, a pleasant breeze ruffles their hair on its way to make the trees sing and flowers dance. It’s a beautiful day for a date.

As they take a small turn in the bend of the path, Junhui stops mid-sentence, and his face lights up in happiness. “Look, Wonwoo! They have white violets!”

Then before Wonwoo can react or ask why he’s so excited, Junhui tugs on their joined hands and runs with him toward the flower patch, giggles filing the peaceful air around them.

_Violet, white: let’s take a chance at happiness_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooooo
> 
> I am back from the dead. Honestly, I don't know why it took me so long. I'm sorryyyyy
> 
> But hurray for finally finishing the fic! Hopefully it won't take another century to post the next one XD
> 
> If you're curious as to what the less common flowers look like, here's a short list courtesy of google. Thanks, google, you're the best!
> 
> P.S.: By popular request (like, 2 people) i have finally gotten a twitter account! So if you want to see my ramblings, come by! @Swanny_Writer XD. Thanks, guys! Until next time! <3  
>  
> 
> [Agrimony](http://urbol.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Agrimony-Tea1.jpg)  
> [Echeveria Succulent](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51KVMJ8TKZL.jpg)  
> [Myrtle](http://www.almanaturals.net/sites/default/files/product-images/myrtle.jpg)  
> [Forget Me Not](http://childrensministry.com/wp-content/upload/children/media/2013/08/forget-me-nots.jpg)  
> [White Violet](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/16/02/19/160219049e4b99a0bdc69ccb7b2d23c4.jpg)  
> [Moss Rosebud](http://static1.squarespace.com/static/500af2aac4aa3053c4fc5ae1/500b3b86e4b02ad5a4c5fd57/500b3b86e4b02ad5a4c5ff7d/1345587074550/old+moss+roses+2.jpg?format=1000w)  
> [Jonquil](http://www.auntyflo.com/sites/default/files/styles/contentpage/public/Jonquil.jpg?itok%5Cx3dFi_FgBHg)  
> [Peony](https://www.rodalesorganiclife.com/sites/rodalesorganiclife.com/files/peonies2_dainavarpina_102522.jpg)  
> [Anemone](http://www.flowermeaning.com/flower-pics/Anemone-Color-Meaning.jpg)  
> [Coreopsis](http://media.americanmeadows.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/small_image/300x/17f82f742ffe127f42dca9de82fb58b1/l/a/lanceleaf-coreopsis.jpg)


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